Lately I feel like I’m carrying a boulder up a steep hill only to lose my strength right before the peak. But instead of the boulder rolling down the hill, it rolls right over me and breaks every bone in my body. I slither to the bottom of the hill and spend days, weeks, or months recovering. Another dream crushed. Another hope thwarted by fate.

Then I ready myself behind the same boulder and start the process over again. This has been my life for more than a decade.

When you’re brain is swollen there’s no escaping it. There’s no “willing your way to victory.” Your vital essence is drained, your talents vanished. Your memories—erased. No information gets in, none goes out. The mental and physical exhaustion is crippling. The cascade of symptoms torturous.

But each time my resolve grows. My determination and grit rise to levels previously unknown. Hardened by the pain. Sharpened by a wisdom only struggle and failure can bestow.

The work becomes the reward. The struggle becomes the path. The ceaseless striving and tireless march toward a vision. A journey into the unknown.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from this Sisyphean task it’s that no one can or will share your vision but you. And only you are capable of achieving that which your mind, and soul, and spirit deem sacred.

The promised land is never out of reach. You’re already there.

So smile at the gods when they crush you once more. Laugh at the absurdity of your plight. Know that eventually, one day, you’ll get over that mountain and peer at the horizons beyond…Only to find an infinite number of peaks in the distance. And a valley full of boulders waiting in the calm silence and shelter…and the start of something new.